


For Science!

by flawedamythyst



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-04-17
Updated: 2011-04-17
Packaged: 2017-10-18 05:54:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 638
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/185707
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flawedamythyst/pseuds/flawedamythyst
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes Sherlock's experiments require some input from John.</p>
            </blockquote>





	For Science!

John pottered around the kitchen, making tea and toast while avoiding Sherlock's stack of chemical equipment, the table covered with dubious-looking samples in tiny dishes, and the man himself, who was hunched over his microscope with his brow wrinkled in concentration. Tea and toast, then he'd pop out for a paper. Sherlock looked as if nothing was going to distract him from whatever it was he was doing for hours, so possibly John would even be able to get the crossword completed before Sherlock did his usual trick of letting out an enormous sigh, grabbing the paper from John and filling in the rest of the grid without even really glancing at the clues. A nice, relaxed morning - that was all John was hoping for today, and as long as no one died and nothing exploded, he was bloody well going to get it.

“John,” said Sherlock suddenly, just as John had found a space at the table large enough for his plate and was about to take his first, gloriously jam-laden bite. “I need some semen.” He thrust an empty beaker out in John's direction without looking up from his microscope.

John gaped at him. “What?” he managed.

Sherlock made an irritated noise. “Semen,” he repeated. “As much as you can manage.”

John carefully put his toast back down on his plate. Somehow, the idea of eating whilst discussing semen had put him off a little. “Why?” he asked, not entirely sure he wanted the answer.

“I need to run experiments,” said Sherlock as if it was obvious.

“On my semen?” asked John incredulously.

“On any semen,” corrected Sherlock. “This man's innocence depends on the effect that various household chemicals have on cheap cotton stained with the stuff.”

Depressingly, that sounded almost plausible, especially compared to some of the other stuff that Sherlock came up with for cases. “What's wrong with using your own?” John tried, wondering if he'd ever get back to his toast, which was starting to look a bit soggy. Too much jam, probably – that had always been John's downfall when it came to toast.

Sherlock finally looked up from his microscope, glaring at John with an air of faint distaste. “I find the process necessary to obtain it extremely unpleasant,” he said. “You, on the other hand, appear to voluntarily engage in it at every opportunity. Why are you being so difficult about it the one time that it would actually be useful?”

“You don't even masturbate?” asked John with perhaps more scepticism than the information warranted. It was Sherlock, after all, and he'd made ignoring his body into an art form.

Sherlock's frown deepened into displeasure. “If you won't do it, I shall have to ask Lestrade,” he said. “And that would involve going to the Yard, and so incur even more delay before an innocent man can be let out of jail.”

John had a sudden vivid image of Sherlock sweeping into Scotland Yard, presenting the beaker that he was still holding at Lestrade in front of a crowd of his officers and demanding a sample of his bodily fluids. For a moment he was severely tempted to allow it to happen, but Lestrade was essentially a good bloke and he didn't deserve that.

He let out an irritated sigh and snatched the beaker from Sherlock. “I must be mad,” he muttered, standing up and abandoning his breakfast. At least if Sherlock was distracted running experiments with his semen, he might still get his crossword.

Sherlock gave him the brief, smug smile that meant 'I knew you'd give in. Why do you ever even bother arguing?' and said. “Excellent. Go off and think about bland women doing vanilla things then, but be quick about it.”

John's scowl deepened. Just for that, he was going to think about Sherlock. In a corset.


End file.
